


The Boy Kings

by mostvillainsneedhugs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Agender Castiel, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Camping, Dean Does Not Listen To Sam, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Raised Separately, Dean and Sam are not related, F/M, Gen, Human Castiel, John Winchester Tries, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Mr. and Mrs. Wesson, Running Away, The Kings of Summer movie, Unrequited Crush, based on a movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostvillainsneedhugs/pseuds/mostvillainsneedhugs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is on the verge of adolescence and finds himself increasingly frustrated by his single father's attempts to manage his life. Declaring his freedom once and for all, he escapes into the woods with his best friend (and unrequited crush) Sam Wesson, and a strange kid named Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Kings

 

Showers were always going to be the best part of the day. _‘The thing about showers.’_ Dean thought ‘ _Is that it washes away all of the bullshit from the day_. _’_ Bullshit like missed finals and crappy run down cars and stupid fuckin’ college applications. He was _smart._ It shouldn’t matter if he understood the hidden meanings in Candide, or the metaphors hidden in wordy sonnets. Dean could build a radio, and wasn’t that skill more useful than fucking calculus. Dean scowled, and thought about his last conversation with Mr. Adler:

_“Your final was due a week ago, Dean.”_ He had said, a fake smile glued on his stupid fat face. _“Look at the board, school's over. We're playing_ hangman _Dean.”_ Asshole. School wasn’t over until they locked the ugly metal doors for summer and the grades were all handed in. Fucking asshole.

“Dean!” Speaking of assholes. “Dean, you've been in there for over an hour!” **Knock knock knock** , always with the fucking knocking, taking away any semblance of fucking privacy. “Dean, I know that masturbation’s fun, I get it, but it's not very green to do it with the shower running!”

“One minute!” Getting out of the shower was always the worst part of the day. It was the end of peace and white noise and the denial of existence. The shower handle squeaked angrily as it was turned off, and water dribbled out of the showerhead, as a cruel remembrance of what had once been. The cold air hit Dean’s body like a crashing wave of ocean, spreading goose bumps all over his arms and chest and turning his nipples into pink pebbles.

“Dean!”

“I’m out!” Dean swung the door open, releasing steam into the hallway and staring John Winchester down in all his naked glory. “I was rinsing my hair.”

“It doesn’t take half a damn hour to rinse your damn hair out.” John narrowed his eyes. “And bring your briefs in there with you next time. You're sixteen years old.”

“Fuck off.” Dean muttered, shoving past his father.

“Going nude is not cute anymore, Dean!” John called, brushing water from his shoulder and shaking his head. Dean threw up his middle finger before slamming his bedroom door hard enough to shake the entire house. John shook his head again, too tired to get angry, and let himself into the steaming bathroom.

In his bedroom, Dean was laying on his bed, wallowing and wishing he were still in his safe cocoon of hot water and steam. His phone lay like a small black brick next to his head, buzzing incessantly with unopened text messages. Growing irritated, Dean turned onto his side and opened his phone to see a familiar name.

_‘end o year prty tonite over @ the scrap yard. U coming?’_

_‘ill b there’_

_‘don’t flake out’_

_‘sais ill b there, bitch. We pregaming??’_

_‘jerk. my plce 7pm.’_

_‘k. c u then.’_

 

~

 

No matter how many times Sam read it, and no matter how gross the author’s views were, _Ender’s Game_ would never get old. The sheer amount of tactical strategy almost made the bigoted profit _worth it_. Sam thumbed open a worn paperback copy, flipping straight to his favorite part. Two young kids out-debating adults with political jargon.

“Sam?” There was a split second of warning before his bedroom door swung open and his mother stood in the doorway. “Sam, Dean is downstairs. Your dad let him in.”

“Don’t you knock?”

“If I knocked, you’d have time to hide the evidence.” Mrs. Wesson winked. “Come on down.”

Sam followed his mother down the stairs, grinning slightly when he saw his best friend fidgeting nervously by the front door. No matter how many times Dean had been to the Wesson House, he still acted as if alarms would go off if he touched anything.

Dean glanced up as Sam reached the foot of the stairs. “What took you so long? Hey, Mrs. Wesson.”

“Hi Dean.” Sam’s mother smiled fondly. “Would you like a cold washcloth?”

“No, Mom, Dean does not want a _cold washcloth_!” Sam felt his cheeks heat up as Dean shot him a shit-eating grin.

“Actually, yeah, I would... I'd love a cold washcloth. Perfect thing on a hot summer night like this.”

“No,” Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and started to drag him towards the basement stairs. “Mom, we don’t want any washcloths!”

Exactly thirteen minutes and seventeen seconds later, Sam and Dean were locked in a furious battle to the death, their thumbs moving rapidly and their eyes glued to a small television screen.

“My mom reminds me of Blanka.” Sam muttered as his character let out a particularly loud shriek. “That's the sound I hear whenever she speaks. Just the gibberish of an undisciplined animal.”

“Hey, at least she’s there.” Dean grunted, sending a fireball at Sam’s character.

“It's never going to end.” Sam went on as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “Even when I'm an adult, she'll find me, question me. Wash my underwear.”

“You're being a little dramatic.”

Sam paused the game, and turned to face his friend. “Dean, they're giving me hives!”

Dean scoffed. “Dude, there's no way that they can give you hives.”

Sam tossed his controller to the faded carpet and lifted the front of his shirt. Dean’s mouth went dry and his eyes widened at the sudden expanse of skin. He barely noticed the rosy welts that streaked across Sam’s side and over his flat, toned, stomach. “Holy shit.” Dean was saved from saying anything else when his phone started to buzz. He glanced at the Caller ID and scowled. “Pause the game. If I don’t get this, I’ll get hell.” Dean accepted the call, and pressed the phone to his ear. “What, Dad?”

_“Kate's going to be at out place in half an hour. Hurry on home, and wash up.”_

Dean glanced at Sam, who had pulled his shirt back down and was rubbing absently at his belly. “Uh, Dad, you know I actually just realized that I have a party tonight, so I'm not going to be able to make it for dinner and stuff. Sorry.”

“ _Too bad.”_ John’s voice was gruff and slightly tinny over the phone. “ _The plans are already made. Jo is driving all the way in from Iowa… and I'm making lamb stew._ ”

Dean let out an undignified snort. ”Lamb stew? Are we in Beowulf? Besides, Jo’s only, like, five hours away, so-“

John cleared his throat in an uncharacteristically nervous manner. “ _Also I was thinking we might bring back Game Night tonight after dinner. It'll be fun_.”

Dean was struck silent, something cold and hard crawling into his chest and squeezing all of the air from his lungs. “Dad, Game... Game Night's a family thing. I'm not going to do Game Night with some spider woman you found in the gutter.”

John sighed heavily. “ _Kate is not a ‘spider woman that I found in the gutter’, Dean. She's a very nice lady who happens to like me. And I like her_.”

Dean scowled. “So, we haven't played Game Night since Ellen left, and then, all of a sudden, you meet some floozy and expect-“

“ _Enough!_ ” Dean jumped, and yanked the phone away from his ear as his father’s voice rang through the speaker. Sam glanced up in concern, not saying anything. “ _Enough, Dean. This is not a debate. My house, my rules. Now, come home, get ready_.” Then there was a click, and a dial tone filled Dean’s ear.

“Everything alright?” Sam asked warily, as Dean shoved his phone into his back pocket, perhaps a little more violently than it deserved.

“Fine.” Dean muttered, reaching for his shoes. “I’ll meet you at the party later. Dad want’s me home for dinner with the Stepford girlfriend.”

 

~

 

Dinner was, if Dean had to choose one word to describe it, Fucking Awful. Jo was there, but his ex-stepsister could only do so much to tamp down the awkwardness. Especially when her new boyfriend, Ash, had such an eclectic personality.

“So, Dean,” A vaguely pretty woman with thin shoulder length blonde hair smiled at Dean from across the silent dining room table. “Your dad told me that you go to Lawrence High. Are you on any teams?”

A very serious look crossed over Dean’s face and he leaned forward in his chair. “Kate, before we go any further, you should know something.”

“Dean…” John’s voice was deep with warning that Dean steadfastly ignored.

“John is not my real father.” Dean said quietly, though his voice carried clearly across the tense space. “I love him, and I owe him a lot. He’s very special to me, but he's not my blood.”

Kate’s eyes were wide with sympathy as she reached a hand out to grip John’s. “Is that true, John?”

“That's completely untrue.” John scowled at Dean.

.”John, the lamb was delicious.” Ash said suddenly. Dean couldn’t tell if he was trying to steer the conversation away from a fight, or just plain oblivious. “Just so tender... it was like I was chewing avocado meat.”

Everyone stared. “I'm not sure I know what you're saying, Ash.” John said slowly.

“Avocado meat.” Ash smacked his lips. “Super tender.”

“Dad wants to bring back Game night.” Dean took a large bite of stew. “Jo, do you remember when he quit because you wouldn't trade him B&O? Remember that?”

Jo smirked. ”Oh, do I remember when my own step-father called me a ‘fear mongering Chinaman’?” She laughed at the scandalized look on Kate’s face and the stare of absolute betrayal that was on John’s. “Yeah, I do... mostly 'cause I'm not a man. Nor am I Chinese.”

Kate giggled nervously. “That's something my great-grandfather would say.” Her small smile faded as everyone turned to stare at her. “He was a racist.” She said as an explanation.

 

~

 

Sam slowly chewed his turkey burger, his parent’s inane chattering rendering Sam’s appetite nonexistent.

“You do that often?” Sam looked up and found his father staring at him expectantly. “Eat the hamburger and then the fries? You don't...” His father waved his hand vaguely. “You don't mix it up?”

Sam sighed. “I don't know, Dad.”

“Just asking.”

“We watched a very good movie on the cable last night.” Sam’s mother said cheerfully, popping a French fry into her mouth. “It was very good. Oh, honey, what was it called?”

Sam’s father chewed carefully. “It had that guy in it, that actor...”

“What was it?” Sam’s mother hummed thoughtfully.

“What's his name?”

‘ _Good God, they never fucking stop_.’ Sam kept his head down, refusing to get pulled into their pointless chatter. It was never about _anything,_ just noise to fill the blank space.

“Called, uh, Heimlich, the...”

“Yes, yes!” Sam’s mother dropped a fry with excitement. “With, uh, what's-his-name. The Prince, the... the New Prince.”

Sam had to do something to _stop the noise._ “Will Smith?”

“Will!” His mother nodded jerkily. “Yes. Will Prince.”

Sam’s father snapped his fingers. “Will Prince.”

His mother took a large bite of her turkey burger. “Oh, gosh, what does he play?”

“Superhero.” Sam muttered.

“Oh, he plays a superhero in this one.” Sam’s mother spoke over him as if Sam hadn’t said anything. ”Kind of a super-“

“Not a cape, though.” Sam’s father sounded as if he had just made a huge fucking discovery.

“Yeah, it's called Heimlich.”

‘ _Please, just shut up shut up shut up shutupshutupshutup SHUT UP!’_

“It’s the darnedest thing.”

~

 

 

John Winchester stared deep into Ash’s eyes, with a desperate glint. “Come on, you want to be my buddy?”

Ash nodded, staring right back. “Yes. I would love that.”

The two Winchesters, as well as their three guests, sat on the floor around a low round coffee table. A game of monopoly sat on the coffee table exuding an air of false innocence.

“Tennessee for Park Place. Right now, straight up.”

Ash laughed and grasped John’s hand in both of his own. “Done!”

“What? No!” Dean shouted, staring at the board game in horror. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

John smirked. “The men are talking, Dean. Pipe down.”

“Yes. Quiet.” Ash gestured grandly. “Quiet, everybody, except for the men. We're in command of the room!”

“This is bullshit, Dad!” Dean spat. “You're pricing me out of the goddamn game.”

“Your roll, Dean.” John chuckled, looking like a cat that had gotten the cream.

“Dad, come on.”

“Yeah, it's kind of cruel, John.” Kate frowned slightly.

John shook his head. “No, no. He's just mad because he doesn't want to be here,  
so he's being a little shit.”

Furious, Dean got to his feet and stomped out of the room. John was just so fucking _unfair_. Voices followed his retreat. He made his way to the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it behind him. If he strained his ears he could still hear everyone in the living room.

“Oh, great. He's always been a quitter.”

“That's real nice work, John. Mom’s right about you driving him away.”

“He'll be all right. Let him walk it off.”

Dean glowered, and pulled out his cell phone. If his father thought that he was petty, Dean would prove him right, goddamn it.

 

~

“Sammy, have you been washing your feet after jogging?” Sam’s mother asked, setting a large bowl of ice cream in front of him. “Because moisture can get trapped in there from the socks. That's what killed Jim Henson, you know.”

Sam gaped at his mother. “What the hell are you talking about?”

A look of sudden excitement crossed over Sam’s mother’s face. “Ooh, Sam,  
can you whistle?” She started to whistle, ignoring the look of utter shock on Sam’s face. “I like it when you harmonize with me on the whistling.” Sam stood abruptly, and left the dining room, ignoring his parents when they called after him.

“Sammy, where you going? Got to go to the potty?”

 

~

 

Very deliberately, Dean turned his phone on speaker. “ _Nine One One, What’s you’re emergency?”_

“Oh, shit, Dean!”

“Dean! Boy, you’d better not-“

“Yeah, I'd like to report a theft.” Dean spoke loudly, ignoring the pounding on the bathroom door.

“Goddamn it! _Dean!_ ”

“Yeah, his name is John Winchester. Brown hair, height unknown…”

 

~

 

Jody Mills narrowed her eyes at the large man glowering down at her from a brightly lit doorway. “The problem with Dean's habit, John, is that one day there will be an actual emergency or violent crime coming from this house.”

John huffed angrily. “Yeah, well, the night is still young.”

Jody’s partner, Garth Fitzgerald IV, cleared his throat. “Mr. Winchester, are you familiar with ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’?”

“Yes. I experienced a childhood on the planet Earth, so, yes, I've heard of that story.”

“Do you think you can apply it to my situation in an allegorical fashion?” John stared blankly at Garth, who seemed to take the silence as a cue to keep going. “Okay. It's a story that involves a boy who constantly cries ‘wolf’-“

Jody sighed. “Garth, just stop.”

“-And when the wolf finally comes, the village-“

“I'm sorry, ‘The Boy Who Cried ‘what’?” John interrupted.

“’The Boy Who Cried Wolf’.”

“Fuck you.” John snapped.

“Garth, lets go.”

"It was ‘The Boy Who Cried ‘what’?”

“Both of you stop talking.”

“Wolf.”

“Get the fuck off my porch before I knock your dick in the dirt.” John growled.

“Garth, come on.”

“I don't see what the problem is.” John’s hands were twitching as if he was resisting an urge to slap Garth.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Garth’s eyes were large and confused.

“What's next? Three Little Pigs?”

 

~

 

“It gets easier.” Jo smiled softly, sitting next to Dean on his bed. “Okay? Honest. Look at it this way: In two years, he's going to _pay_ you to leave.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah.” His face fell and he suddenly looked nervous. “Uh, look, this may sound desperate, but I am 100% lucid, okay?”

“Dean…”

“Don't smile, 'cause I'm-“

“Dean, please don’t.”

“This is very serious-“

“ _I_ am very serious.”

Dean clasped both of Jo’s hands in his own. “I'm taking you so, _so_ seriously. I can be packed in fifteen minutes. Just take me with you to Iowa. _Please.”_

Jo inhaled sharply. “Okay, I would. Totally would, but... John would want to come visit us all the time, and that just wouldn't work for me... or Mom.”

Dean groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed. “You're so lame.”

Jo grimaced and patted her ex-stepbrother’s knee. “Take it easy on him.”

~

 

Sam felt the tension from dinner sloughing off of his shoulders, as cold cheap beer filled his mouth. The party that surrounded him was deafening. Loud laughter spilled from the mouths of drunken teenagers and the heavy bass of music filled the junkyard.

“Sammy!”

Sam spun around and grinned when he saw Dean pushing his way through the crowd towards him. “Hey! What's up, dude? How was, uh, fake family night?”

Dean grimaced and took a swig of an amber liquid from a red solo cup. ”Oh, it was great. Nothing went wrong. The police didn't come. I love my father.”

Sam laughed awkwardly. “Shit.”

“Dean, you made it!” A grinning ginger girl wearing a tight Star Trek t-shirt bounced up to the two boys, throwing an arm around Dean’s shoulders. “And you’re already catching up!”

“Yeah, about ready for another drink.” Dean gulped the last of his concoction, and tossed the plastic cup onto the ground, ignoring Sam’s protests.

“Oh, have mine, I hate beer.” Charlie handed over her pabst.

“Thanks.” Dean grinned. “How are you?”

Charlie waved her hand in a vague manner. “I'm good. How are you?”

“Sadly, I'm not as drunk as you are.”

Dean was laughing now more than he had in months. Sam watched him chat with Charlie as he finished his own beer.

“Sam!”

Sam turned slightly, and laughed aloud when one of his classmates bounded up to him. “Jess! Hi. Having fun?”

“Yeah.” Jess smiled up at Sam, tilting her head back and letting her hair fall down her back. “How about you?”

Sam tried to ignore the heat that was spreading in his chest. “Well, I’ve only been here for about an hour, but so far so good.“

“I haven’t been here that long either.” Jess took a swig from her own drink and shuddered. “Ugh, this stuff is so gross.” Before she could say anything else, a gruff angry voice could be heard, shouting above the clamor of the party.

“You little fuck-suckin’ idjits! People are trying to sleep!” Bobby Singer, the owner of Singer’s Autos next door, waved a shotgun from the edge of his property.

“It's public property, bro!” A random voice sailed out.

“What? Who the hell told you that?”

“We assumed!”

Scattered laughter rippled through the party.

“I don't trust that old guy.” A sudden voice popped up from behind Dean. “He has a shadow behind his eyes.”

“Jesus fuck!” Dean spun to come face to face with a short, skinny boy with squinty blue eyes and thick dark hair. “How long have you been standing there?” 

“Hello.”

“That's not a real answer.” Sam pointed out. “Aren’t you in my AP Calc?”

“I’m Castiel.”

“That’s still not a real-”

“You little shit dicks!” Bobby Singer was still yelling and waving his gun around. “I’m calling the cops!”

There was a beat of silence, then the same random voice from before yelled “ _Scatter!”_ and then, like the rats from Ratatouille, everyone ran in a different direction. Dean sprinted, not knowing what direction he was going, just knowing that if he were arrested- if his father had to talk to the police for _real-_ he would never hear the end of how he was a disappointment.

Eventually, when Dean could no longer hear the party, he stopped running. He found himself on the edge of a small clearing, and, nearly completely hidden in the center of the clearing, was an abandoned cabin. Leaning heavily against a tree, Dean sucked air into his chest using big open gulps.

“Try using a Lamaze technique.”

All the air that Dean had pulled into his lungs came rushing out in shock. “Fucking Christ, Cas! Give a guy some warning.”

“I have been following you the whole time. You are just unobservant.”

Dean stared at Castiel for a long moment. He vaguely remembered seeing the odd boy in the halls of the high school. Always swamped in a dirty tan trench coat, to everyone else he seemed like the type of kid who would shoot up the school. Whispers followed him everywhere, but Castiel always seemed harmless to Dean, a little strange sure, but definitely not a repeat of Columbine.

“Let’s just find out way back.”

Dean and Castiel began to wander back to where Dean thought the town was, though soon it became quite apparent that Dean’s sense of direction wasn’t as good as he had originally thought. A fact that Castiel didn’t seem to have any problems pointing out.

“Dean, did you know we've been walking for half a mile? I can tell by how much we've bonded.”

“I cant tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” Dean said mockingly.

Castiel cast him a puzzled look. “Sarcasm is the uneducated man’s humor.”

“You’re the uneducated man’s…humor…” Dean muttered. “Anyway we're lost, and, you haven't said a word this entire time, so I don’t know about this whole bonding thing-“

“How much longer?”

Dean sighed. “I have no idea, Cas. Let's just keep our wits, and we'll get home.” Dean straightened his shoulders and looked at his surroundings. “Now, where the hell are we?”

“Someplace they will never find us.” Castiel said mysteriously looking at the Cabin.

“What?” Dean turn to look at Castiel, but he was already stomping his way through the trees, his long coat fluttering around his ankles.

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily based off of the movie 'The Kings of Summer'. Dialogue is taken straight from the original script. I do not own any recognizable characters and no profit is being made.
> 
> This was un-beta'd, any mistakes are my own.


End file.
